Everybody has one
by Kelly123
Summary: Ellie's blushing, and Craig's oblivious. What else is new? An angsty, fluffy, pointless little oneshot.


This is random, rambling, and plot-less. And fluffy...sort of. Basically this idea popped into my head, and I was all excited to write it, but then I had to go to work and by the time I came home my enthusiasm had waned and I had forgotten much of what I wanted to say. But anywho...I don't know why I chose this weird point of view, but I did and now I don't care for it much, but I don't want to go back and change it all just to first person. I think it carried over from writing "Because," which I had already written and posted by the time I realized I had chosen that type of POV from reading "Lie to me." Oops. So, sorry to moirariordan for unintentionally copying her, because it kinda carried over to this story too. I've only written a little bit of Craig pov, so I am worried that I didn't quite get him right, but ehh, I don't think I will lose sleep over it. The setting is somewhere after Venus and before Together Forever. Ellie knows she likes Craig but he is clueless. Oh, and characters, setting, etc. are not owned by me. That was my disclaimer, by the way.

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"I don't." she says, and suddenly she isn't looking you in the eye.

"Come on Nash!" you argue enthusiastically, "Of course you do, everybody has one!" you hate not seeing her expressions, so you shift your position on the ratty old couch the two of you are sitting on in your garage so that you are no longer lounging next to her, but spread across her lap. Now she has to meet your gaze, because your face is blocking the legging-covered knees she for some reason thought deserved her undivided attention. You're quite comfortable lying this way, and while looking up at her you widen your eyes in curiosity and lace your fingers together across your chest.

"Well I don't." she replies, and there is just the slightest evidence of a pout on her lips as she gazes down at you, tendrils of red hair falling from behind her ears and casting shadows across her face. You cock your head and stare unabashedly at her, because she looks so... _mysterious _from this angle, and you're intrigued. Then suddenly a new shadow is painted on her face, and she is blushing. A dark rash of crimson spreads across her silhouette, and for some reason you find it oddly endearing. Endearing and intriguing, that's your Ellie. You barely have time to ask yourself what she could be embarrassed of before two pale arms shoot out at you and you find yourself thrown forcefully off of her.

It is with an uncomfortable, though not quite painful, thump that you hit the ground, and once the split-second of shock wears off, you look up to find that she has pulled her legs in to her chest and is regarding you suspiciously over the fortress of her knees. You meet her gaze haughtily for a moment, then roll over onto your side facing her and curl up into the fetal position, opening your mouth to moan loudly in simulated agony.

"Owwwwwwwwwww!" you cry out in what you hope is a pitiful tone, but she remains silent. Curious, you sneak a glance up and find that she is continuing to stare at you, her knees locked and jaw set in a stance of apprehension.

"Ouch!" you try again, and this time you catch the smirk playing at the side of her mouth out of the corner of your eye. You press on. "What the hell was that for Ellie! Why do you have to break a guy's bones just because he asked you what your favorite color is?"

"I most certainly did not break any bones to speak of, and I already told you Manning, I don't have a favorite color."

"And I told you Nash, you simply have to have one."

"Oh I do, do I?" her eyebrow is raised, and there is something so alluringly defiant in her posture, in her tone, that makes the statement seem like a challenge, and you can't help but drop your act and just smile. Damn it, that girl always manages to make you smile.

"Yep, you do, or else you're just not human." Your tone is business-like, and when you stand you brush your hands together with a professional finality that causes her to roll her eyes.

"Well then, I guess that settles it. You, Detective Craig, have single-handedly discovered my deepest and most darkly kept secret. Yes, it is true that I am not from this planet, I was actually born on Pluto, and only came to Earth after a ferocious civil war erupted on my home soil that sent my parents and thousands of others scrambling into outer-space for our lives.

"Really?" you say, and both of you are smiling at each other. "You know, I don't think they are even calling it Pluto anymore, it's like, a bunch of numbers or something."

"It makes no difference to me what you silly earthlings call it, Pluto will always be to me the beautiful planet of my birth"

"But isn't 'Pluto' what us earthlings called it in the first place? Didn't you have a different name for it in your own plutonian language?" Very stealthily, you've made your way back up onto the couch next to her, and she has let her guard down and loosened her grip on her knees. Making a frustrated face, she exclaims,

"It was a long time ago okay! Its hard enough to accept that I can barely remember my true alien form, but then you have to go shove it in my face that I don't remember my true alien language? Geez, talk about insensitive!"

With this she throws up her hands in exasperation, and you take the opportunity to launch a surprise attack on her. Grabbing the arms she flung into the air by their tiny, scarred wrists, you wrap your callused fingers around the joints and pin them to the tattered couch. At the same time, your lower body swings over hers, and a bulky male knee wedges its way on the outside of each of her thighs. She lets out a high pitched squeal that would have sounded much more at home coming from Manny's throat, and almost as soon as the noise pierces the air she seems to have the same thought, because she cuts it off with a much more characteristic growl.

Leaning over her, you sneer wickedly and lower your face until it is just inches from her own. "As I was saying ma'am, your favorite color would be...?"

She narrows her eyes and clamps her mouth shut. Then she starts to fight. She throws ever ounce of her strength into getting out of your grasp, her small body bumping and rubbing violently against your own larger one. Her stubborn will is amusing to you, as is the unladylike spectacle she is currently making of herself. As she forcefully attempts to lift her hips up off the seat cushion to throw you off balance, a look of horrified recognition flashes across her face and she grows instantly still.

"Why stop now baby? We've got the whole garage to ourselves?" you say suavely, your face no more than a breath away from hers, but she scrunches her nose in distaste. She turns her head away from you and mumbles something incoherently under her breath.

"I'm sorry my dear, what was that again?" You inquire, switching the possession of her wrists from one in each hand to holding both in your left, and use your right to coax her chin back in your direction. "I didn't quite hear you the first time."

"Fuchsia." She snarled, eyes snapping now that they were locked in gaze with your own, "My favorite color is fuchsia."

"Whoa," you straighten up, "are we talking like fuchsia-fuchsia? Like hot-pinky-purpley fuchsia?" you ask in disbelief, because Ellie Nash, in fuchsia, is something you would pay to see.

"Yeah well, it was back in my goth stage, and I was trying to get into purple. You know, since purple is the color of bruised, dead skin and all, and its so very, very gothic. But the problem was, the shades of purple that most appealed to me didn't look in the slightest like blood collected under the skin. They were bright and flashy, and well, fuchsia. And yeah, I guess it's my favorite color. So now you know. What of it?" Her voice was unapologetic, and again, that defiant something in her dared you to make fun of her choice.

But her face was flushed with her earlier struggle, her wavy hair disheveled and spread across the couch's patterned back scandalously, and in that moment you feel a strong pang of affection for the girl beneath you. Because girls like Elle...damn, there just aren't any girls like her. She's what got you through the summer, and you have a pretty good idea that she is what is going to get you through your senior year. You think of her, and your smirk breaks out into a genuine grin.

"So fuchsia, huh? And Pluto? You certainly are a girl of many secrets Nash."

"Oh fuck you. Besides, you never told me your favorite color. You can't expose my secrets and not share your own. Spill it Manning."

"Hmm, you want secrets do you? Well, for starters I'm pretty sure I was born on earth, though I know that my otherworldly good looks may suggest otherwise. And as for colors I've always been fond of blue..." and here she snorts sarcastically at the unoriginality of your standard male choice and continues to smirk at you, and that smirk gives you an idea. Seductively, you lean in and drop your voice, "but then again, I've recently taken a liking to a particular shade of red." The hand you released to turn her head then snakes its way up into her tousled hair, wrapping a stray strand around your finger and tugging on it lightly as you give her a smirk of your own.

It comes as a surprise, then, when her face freezes almost fearfully, the skeptically arched eyebrow and scornfully upturned corners of her mouth dropping into a blank expression of shock, and you wonder if maybe you said the wrong thing. You were only kidding around with her after all, and Ellie always at least gets your jokes. She may not always appreciate them, but she always gets them, so why isn't she getting this one? Because though you certainly were going for a reaction, this isn't it.

Almost as soon as you can form the questions in your brain though, the look has vanished and been replaced by a face of bitter resignation. She jerks her head sharply away from your hand and the red strands fall from your fingers. 'She's slipping through your fingertips' says a little voice in the back of your mind, but that doesn't make any sense, because she's Ellie, and she's not going anywhere, so you push the thought away. You both hear the voices coming up the driveway at the same time, and by the time Jimmy and Marco roll into the garage you find yourself, once again, in a heap on the ground.

Perplexed, you rub the elbow that smacked the cement absentmindedly as you look from the guys and then back again to her, half-expecting to see her wink at Marco with that smug grin on her face, but you don't. She's still frowning, and she doesn't meet your gaze as she jumps up off the couch and makes her way over to the drum set. Then Jimmy plugs in an amp, and Marco tunes his bass, and everyone seems to be waiting on you to get your ass off the ground, so you do so and reach for your guitar.

Practice follows without any incidents to speak off, Ellie might have hit her drums a bit too vehemently at times, and you forgot a couple of lines, but no one else seems to notice. When you've gone through all the songs you know, Jimmy's dad honks his horn from outside and the guys pack up their stuff and wave as they leave. She too seems eager to make an exit, standing up a little too quickly from behind the drums and losing her balance, and you rush forward to catch her around the waist before she falls. Again, her behavior surprises and slightly offends you when she stiffens and flinches at your touch, but you don't let go.

"Ellie, I'm sorry! What's wrong, what did I do?" you ask genuinely, trying to hold onto her without making her feel like you are holding her down.

"Nothing!" she scoffs lightheartedly, but you can tell the tone is fake, and besides, she is still recoiling at your contact.

"No really, I hate making you mad. Or sad, or embarrassed or whatever is wrong. Please just tell me."

"It's nothing, I promise. This is standard behavior for fuchsia-loving Plutonians!" She attempts a laugh, but it falls flat.

"Okay..." you say warily, and for some reason you feel the need to kiss her temple to reassure her of the sincerity of your remorse. You do so, a simple peck by the soft skin of her eye, but when that little muffled sigh comes out of her mouth you halt, your lips almost brushing against her hair so that it ruffles slightly when you speak.

"Elle?" you whisper, and now you are more confused than ever about the turn of events this night has taken, and also at the strange amount of anticipation building in you as she shifts in your embrace so that you are facing each other. Tilting her head slowly upward, a sharp pain jabs at your insides once her eyes meet yours and you find the beginnings of tears collecting within them.

"I know that you were teasing me." She says, her voice deliberate and low, "and I know that you didn't mean any harm by it, but the thing is, I kind of wish you weren't."

"Ellie, what do you mean?" and you hate that you don't understand, because now her eyes are welling even more, and you just want to make them stop. You hate to be the one making her cry.

"About...about liking the color red. Its just that... I wish you really did like it, I mean, I know you _like _it, but I-"

She smiles against your mouth when you kiss her, and for some reason that's what makes everything fall right into place. Her small hands link behind your neck as you tighten your grip on her waist, which, to your great delight, causes her to melt her once-rigid body flush against yours. She makes that little sigh again, and now it's your turn to smile, and you pull back just slightly to gaze at her in a bemused wonderment. Her cheeks are burning again, and the color mesmerizes you for a second, and when you run a finger over the curve of her cheekbone she tries to ducks her head shyly, but you won't let her. And then she clutches at you hungrily, but hesitantly, and you lean in eagerly to capture her flushed lips for a second time. Everybody has one, you realize, and she's yours.

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So this originally ended when Marco and Jimmy arrived, but I figured it would be pretty bitchy of my to write two stories in a row with angsty endings, so I prolonged it a bit. Again, I'm not too happy with this, but I would still love to hear what you think!


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